The Other Side
by ZeDemonicHammyBear
Summary: Due to alot of firewhiskey, Draco Malfoy, and her past with Voldemort, Ginny is drawn into life on the darkside.Blaise on the other hand is forced to see the light. 5 years later, paths cross, throwing off the balance of life as they know it. AU/EWE/OOC
1. Chapter 1

_**The Other Side:**_

**A/N: Ello Lasses and Lads! :D This is my very first Fanfictionnnn! Yayyyy!**

**This idea came to me one night when I was procrastinating sleep and I just had to write it down. Hope you enjoy!**

**Summary: After losing the biggest quidditch match of the year, a wasted Ginny finds herself in bed with none other than the snake himself, Draco Malfoy. Due to her past with Voldemort, Ginny is drawn into life on the dark side. Blaise on the other hand is forced to see the light. Five years later fates cross and paths collide, throwing the balance of life and all sense and rationality out the window, ultimately revealing everyone's true colors. **

**Disclaimer: Sadly, I do not own Harry Potter. It all belongs to the brilliant mind of J.K Rowling. Mondo Freaking Bummer. Butttt I do own Eva Gutierrez! And the idea for this story of course. **

**Warning: I am a MAJOR fan of swearing ;) But I will try to tone it down a bit for certain characters and what not. Also, I am not planning a lemon in this fic as of yet, but who knows? I could get a bit carried away. **

_Chapter One_

Screw the diamonds. Firewhiskey is most definitely a girl's best friend.

The gentle, tingling, cinnamon burn, as it glides smoothly and gently down your throat. The way the warmth spreads from the core of your very being and radiates off in all directions, sending beams of internal sunshine to the far end of every extremity. And the taste, Merlin, the cinnamon fiery explosion that leaves sparks of wonder dancing across your tongue, is simply, to die for.

But the absolute, best thing about firewhiskey is the way it makes you forget.

How with each mind-blowing taste, your problems seem to slip further, and further away until truly, you no longer give a damn.

Today, however, seemed to be an exception.

Ginny let out an exasperated sigh as she once again brought the bottle to her thin, pale, lips, allowing her head to fall back until it hit the cold stone corridor wall behind her with a deafening thud, her lids slowly fluttering to a close.

The morning had started off like any other normal day. They had all been gathered at the Gryffindor table for breakfast, gearing up for the big quidditch match that afternoon. It was Slytherin vs. Gryffindor, and the last game of the year. The great hall was anything but quiet.

It didn't help matters that the previous morning Dumbledore had announced that there would be a special guest from the Chudley Cannons attending the match the following afternoon as well. So naturally, the great hall was bustling with excitement, as everyone playing in that match was hoping to be picked.

"I bwoody cwan't believe wit." Ron mumbled through a mouthful of food. "The Chwudley Cannons are gwonna be here! Watching me!" Chunks of whatever pastry had just been shoved into his mouth flew across the table, landing square on Hermione's un-touched waffle.

Hermione sent him a glare from across the table and Ron let out a rather feminine shriek. "What the bloody hell was that for 'Mione?" He all but screamed, picking up his foot to examine the damage. Hermione responded with nothing more than a satisfied smirk, one which almost rivaled that of a Slytherin.

"Anyways, I still can't believe it!" Ron had continued, listing off all the reasons why this was the best thing since sliced bread. The Chudley Cannons were Ron's favorite team. They had been for as long as he could remember. And after the Weasley's had taken him to the watch the team play in the Quidditch World Cup, it had quickly become Harry's favorite team as well.

In fact, that game was the one that had planted his dream of becoming a professional quidditch player. It was something that had become an obsession of his. The past few years he had poured his heart and soul into becoming the best quidditch player ever. And today had been his chance to prove to the world, and to the Chudley Cannons scout, that he was more than some raven haired boy with a lightning scar and an impending death wish. Too bad one Miss Ginevra Weasley had to go and bloody ruin it for all of them.

Gods, Ginny hated herself more in that moment than Ron hated that bloody git Malfoy. More than Hermione hated having fun. Hell, she probably hated herself more then, than Voldemort hated Harry. And that was really saying something.

The look on Harry's face as Malfoy's smooth, silky, ivory skinned hand wrapped its nimble, elegant fingers around the snitch had been absolutely mortifying. It was the look on a child's face when they catch their parents putting presents in their stocking. His face was contorted in a mix of anguish and disparity, all the while trying to keep a straight face. But you could see it in his eyes. In the way they glistened, almost as if they were on the brink of tears. Ginny noticed he didn't let a single tear fall. He was Harry freaking Potter after all. Even so, he did have feelings, and as blue eyes met green, he seemed utterly and painstakingly heartbroken.

Ron on the other hand, was absolutely livid. From the second his feet hit ground until Hermione was able to slip a sleeping draught into his Firewhiskey, he had been screaming nothing but stream after stream of virtually incoherent cusswords, swears, threats, and insults.

But not a single one was directed at Malfoy. The one who caught the snitch, took home the Quidditch Cup, and was now signed up to play for the Chudley Cannons in the fall. No, every single one had been directed at her.

As was rightfully so, but it wasn't the swears or threats that had caused Ginny to break out into a cold sweat and cause her knees to tremble with fear and remorse. That was how Ron always was. In fact, it was an odd day when he didn't run around with the mouth of a sailor, making an absolute utter fool of himself, and acting like a right out git.

It was the fact that THE Ronald Weasley, the most carelessly un-observant person to ever step foot on the face of the earth, muggle or otherwise, had seen it. Had seen her, her fucking raging hormones, and what they had done. And if Ron of all people had seen, then there was an absolute one billion percent chance that every single person within a thousand foot radius, either in the stands, or on the field, had seen as well.

They would all know that she had been the one to let them down.

However, the person she cared about most right now was Harry. Even thought they were no longer an item Ginny still cared for him deeply. And he still cared for her. Or, at least he did. Ever since the breakup they had become closer than ever. But Ginny wasn't too sure anymore. Hell she wasn't sure of anything.

Ginny brought the bottle to her lips once more, and with the least amount of grace possible, downed a good half of the remainder of the bottle.

The plan, had been simple, a routine that she and Harry had been practicing for weeks, maybe even months. All she had to do was distract Malfoy, once Harry signaled he had found the snitch, for just long enough to keep the bloody git off the trail. And it would have worked too! Had it not been for her raging hormones and that god damned saint-like body, with its toned muscular chest, chiseled perfectly due to hours of quidditch playing, shown off exquisitely through his dampened robes that were plastered to his pale, ivory skin which seemed to shimmer with every raindrop that was lucky enough to be graced with his presence. His platinum hair, not slicked back like usual, but ruffled due to the many times he had ran those graceful, nimble, fingers through it, and then there were those eyes. A dark, stormy gray, filled with thought, intensity, and passion, as they darted across the field, looking for their prey. She had seen the golden glint in his stare as he finally found his target, the golden snitch, and before Ginny could even realize what had happened he was gone.

The bottle somehow found its way to her lips once more for a much needed drink. She needed to burn the memory away forever. But for some reason the damn thing wasn't doing its job. In fact she could have sworn that with every sip it only became stronger, brighter, more vivid, and more permanently embedded into her brain.

This time however, as she titled her head back farther until it rested gently against cold stone she wasn't greeted by the welcoming taste of cinnamon and passion. Her taste buds found nothing but cold dry particles of air. A small frown graced her lips and her eyes filled with confusion as she curiously and tentatively peered into the bottle. There was nothing. Brilliant.

Ginny let out a loud, disgruntled, and deranged cry as the empty bottle in her hand flew across the room, shattering as it collided with the face of a stout, pudgy man with high rosy cheeks. Letting out a rather un-masculine squeal, he fled from his portrait, off to seek refuge from the crazy redhead in another portrait hopefully far away from any type of enraged or drunken teenager. The bottle had burst into a million pieces of glass and dust.

"Why someone's a bit feisty today." Drawled a low, sultry, voice. The words were heavily slurred, causing the remark to be barely coherent. Whoever they were, they were obviously piss drunk.

Her eyes darted up to see who dare to interrupt her thinking. The audacity! By the time she was finished with them…..

Her thoughts stopped short as she was met by two silver orbs, glistening like moonlight on water. They were absolutely breathtaking. They were definitely the eyes that had caused her probably one of the worst days of her entire life, but they had changed. Morphed slightly into something gentler and more serene. The calm before the storm.

Quickly, she attempted to compose herself. "Wha-What do you want Malfoy?" She stammered.

A goofy grin immediately spread across his face. Ignoring her question he retorted "My, my, if it isn't the little Weaselette. Weren't trying to put a dent in this lovely face now were you?" With each word that left him he took a step closer to her body, curled up along the floor, until he was leaning over her, their lips dangerously close. My god his lips were beautiful.

"And what if I was?" She replied softly, her voice was suddenly low and filled with...lust? Oh god. Already the Firewhiskey was begging to take over. That must be it. Why else would she be here in a dark, deserted corridor flirting with Draco Malfoy?

His grin merely got wider. "Well then I'd have to punish you." He replied smugly.

That was when she felt the alcohol completely take over. Or maybe it was her hormones finally giving in. Either way she found herself leaning towards him, his breath hot on her neck, inviting her to come closer. He was only centimeters away now. His lips so close to hers. And then in a heartbeat they were together. His mouth warm and hot against her own, battling for dominance in a kiss like no other. It was steamy. It was passionate. But too soon he was pulling away.

She moaned in resistance, latching her mouth onto his once more and wrapping her legs securely around his waist as he lifted them both up off the floor, his strong, toned arms wrapping around behind her, cradling her gently against his chest as his tongue began to caress her lower lip, asking for entrance, which she greeted all to eagerly. Her hands found purchase in his long platinum locks. Once again, like on the quidditch pitch, his hair was left ruffled.

The last thing she remembered was her body melding against his as he carried her down the hall and into a room, the door behind them slamming to a close.

**A/N: Sooo..? What did you think? Blaise next chapter! And his sexy girl friend (for now) Eva!**

**REVIEVERS GET HUGS AND COOKIES! Constructive criticism is appreciated and flames will be laughed at and ignored! **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter 2 is hurrrrr! Finally!**

**I am so incredibly sorry for such the late update, you honestly have no idea. Forgive Me?**

**I'm going to try to update again before for the 1****st**** of August butttt, if I don't I give you full permission to leave me nasty threatening PM's. **

**Thank you so much to my one and only reviewer**_**Racina Victorine Black!**_**Extra Hugs and Cookies to you!**

**Also, thank you to all my favoriters/readers/alerters. Every single one makes me incredibly happy. :D Remember! Reviews motivate me to get my lazy arse over to the computer so please push that lovely little button at the bottom of the page. Constructive criticism is greatly appreciated!**__

_Chapter Two: _

_My Dearest Blaise,_

_I had the most wonderful chat with Tommy the other day. It was so nice to finally be able to catch up with him after my years of absence. He asked about you naturally; wanted to see how you were doing. He informed me that, once again, he is recruiting new apprentices, and after a bit of persuasion on my part he agreed to offer you a position. _

_Next Monday, you are supposed to meet with your mentor where he will discuss with you the training course that you will need to ensue. Meet him at noon in the leaky cauldron. There will be a room specially reserved in your name so the two of you may privately discuss your new expectations._

_You know how much this would mean to me if you did accept. Please do consider._

_Your Loving Father,_

_MZ_

The letter was signed with a stamp, similar to the one that adorned the back of the envelope as the seal. The initials were long and loopy, written in the same elegant print as the letter itself. The letters making up the initial were a brilliant shade of green masked ever so slightly by the enchanted black dust that shimmered above, making it appear as though the letters were slightly and slowly, slithering back and forth as they emitted a charcoal stream of smoke.

The initials each were guarded by a lean, long, graceful, and yet vigorous serpent, with scales paler and more lustrous than the moon. The ominous never ending orbs that were situated on either side of the elegant creatures face seemed as if they were seeing into your soul. Dark, powerful, and all-knowing, they seemed to be able to peer into every crevice of your mind, insinuating the idea that none of your secrets were safe.

The serpents were intertwined, each coiling as if ready to strike, glistening fangs bared, around their own individual letter that made up his father's initial, the bodies continuing to spiral until they reached the base were they met in the center to twine together and form one.

The snakes, Blaise believed, had originated in Australia. The creatures were known for the monstrous size, their speed, their power, and the deathly venom that dripped from their fangs.

Although now quite rare, the snakes once flourished the land in abundance, causing them to be the most feared and most dangerous of all its sisters. That was of course until it was discovered of the pure aptitude the venom hidden inside those fangs held.

Once it came to attention that the venom itself was a key ingredient in a drought that was supposed to bring loved ones back from the dead, the serpents became almost completely extinct as did the population of magical folk all over the world.

The venom held magical power yes, but legend tells that what lies inside that mouth is enough to take down an entire Ukrainian Ironbelly, something even an extremely powerful witch or wizard who was trained in the art of dragon slaying had a great deal of difficulty with.

For this reason, few survived the ingredient collection process, and those who did were not able to get what they went there for.

All in all Blaise believed that the emblem represented his father rather perfectly. To Blaise, the man was nothing more than a slimy two faced git, represented beautifully by the snakes. His Father defined the definition of Slytherin. Sly, cunning, and mischievous to the core. And to top it all off Marcus Zabini was one of the most frightening men Blaise had ever met ranking number two in the man most likely to make you shit your pants scale right behind of course none other than the dark lord himself.

Yes, Blaise's father was one freaky dude. His appearance in itself was nothing to alarm. In fact he rather looked like a fatter, hairier, wrinklier version of Blaise. Everything about the man was quite normal save for one feature. His eyes.

To look Marcus Zabini in the eye was almost as worse a fate as having a staring contest with a basilisk. Guaranteed death.

His father's eyes were almost exact replicas as that of the serpents that adorn his seal. Dark, deep, ominous, and all-knowing, everything about his stare is absolutely violating. Staring into his eyes, you feel as if he is sifting through your soul, invading every personal thought you have ever had.

Blaise tried, but he could not bring himself to break his stare with the piece of parchment in his hands. Merlin, that slimy scum had reached an ultimate low. Mr. Zabini may be a frightening man but he is by far the biggest pussy Blaise has ever known. And now his father was counting on him, his own flesh and blood, to take the mark and save his sorry ass.

For the past seventeen years Marcus Zabini has not exactly been in good terms with the Dark Lord, and for the past sixteen and a half has been hiding in his luxurious vacation home atop some deserted mountain in Spain.

Until now apparently, when his father found the sudden need to go crawling back to the Dark Lord, tail tucked between his legs and pleading for forgiveness.

It was probably due to the fact that he had finally depleted his Gringotts vault for even though he had gained quite a fortune from his years amongst the Dark Lord it would come to no surprise that he has been living life a little too comfortably which is why he discovered a new found desire to once again sit in the dark lord lap.

And of course the Dark Lord had accepted, agreeing to put the past behind them and clear up the Zabini name once and for all. But, with the Dark Lord there is always a catch, and it appears that this time Blaise just so happens to be that catch.

Giving the life of his son away to a madman to spare his own was just his father's style, after all, he had not always been in the Dark Lord's bad side. In fact for many a year he had been ranked amongst the top of the 'Inner Circle' right along none other than Bellatrix LeStrange constantly caught up in their game of who could be a better ass kisser, serving as the Dark Lord's most loyal and dutiful followers.

That is until about seventeen years ago, precisely three weeks after Blaise had been born.

The Dark Lord, after succeeding exceedingly well in an Auror ambush had held a revel in celebration where all his little followers sat dutifully at the long oak table in Spinners End, anxiously awaiting for the arrival of the Mudblood prize (or prizes) of the evening where then they would torture, rape, and murder the whole lot of them.

At least, that was the plan.

Although Blaise had never been sure of exactly what, something that night had gone terribly and disastrously wrong.

According to his mother who is normally an extremely reliable source of information seeing as she is always in on the latest gossip she tends to leave quite a few details out when regarding her son there had apparently been a mishap between Blaise's father and the Dark Lord himself, regarding that nights means of entertainment somehow along the way enraging the Dark Lord to the point where Mr. Zabini was nearly Avada'd right there in front of all his fellow death eaters.

With the horror of disappointing his master, the one thing in the world that he would give anything for, he was sent into a fit of despair, leaving him in a Death Eater's version of depression.

Barely a month later, he was up and gone, leaving Blaise's mother behind with nothing more than the signed divorce contract and their new born son.

Suddenly, Blaise's thoughts were interrupted as a pair of small warm hands began to knead gently at the stress unknowingly building in his shoulders. He let out a small sigh of contentment at the release of all the tension that had slowly begun to build ever since he had picked up his father's letter that had arrived in the Great Hall during breakfast with the morning post.

"Hey Blaisey" A seductive voice murmured softly in his ear, causing a multitude of shivers to race down his spine. Her lips continued, gently caressing their way down his neck, leaving behind the tingle from the soft tantalizing kisses until she reached the spot, the one that would cause him to let out a deep, guttural moan of pleasure, where she lingered for a moment, breathing ever so slightly against it.

"What ya' reading?" The question in itself was completely harmless and innocent, but it was the way her voice dropped even lower, softer, captivating him with every word, every breath, and every movement that she made.

Eva Gutierrez just had that affect on him.

The woman standing before him was, by far, the best thing that had ever happened to Blaise in his sad excuse of a life.

They had grown up together, playing in the meadows and forests of Zabini Manor as children, riding their first brooms, walking together hand in hand to Diagon Alley to get their first wands when they turned 11, waiting anxiously in line with the rest of the first years to see what house the Sorting Hat would place them in at the start of first year, they had all done it together, side by side.

And now, now they were 17, days away from graduating, a multitude of breaths away from stepping away from the place they had both come to of known as home, and their friendship had grown into something spectacular. It had transformed, slowly but surely, into a beautiful dream that Blaise could only begin to comprehend.

She was, by far, the sexiest witch he had ever laid eyes on.

Her long, silky, ink-colored hair tumbled like midnight waves over her shoulders and down her back, springing gently into tantalizing locks that framed her prefect tanned Spaniard skin alluringly.

Her cheek bones were held high and when they flushed with color, he found himself virtually melting into the floor beneath him.

Her lips were soft, gentle, and full. Shaped perfectly, luscious, and often stained a brilliant red.

Her most exquisite feature however would not doubt her eyes.

She has the eyes of a dragon. Fierce, feisty, and dangerous, yet filled with more gentle grace and passion than you could ever imagine. They're the color of sea foam. Stormy grey, soft emerald and a hint of sapphire, all mixed together in an ever moving pool, calling him to swim in their warmth every second of every day.

And although she has a body that seems as if it was sent straight from the heavens, her personality was something to be reckoned with.

She had a temper like no other and could easily beat himself and any other boy on campus for that matter, in a swearing contest.

But when she was truly pissed off it was an absolutely terrifying and yet beautiful thing.

Her cheeks would flush red with fury, eyes doubling in size as her hair which normally was practically perfect flew out in all directions, words flying out of her mouth which would cause any man, woman, or child to tremble in their spot.

But how you know when you've really ticked her off is when she begins to cuss you out in her native tongue.

Yes, when those Spanish words which were all too familiar to Blaise come pouring out, you know you truly have buried yourself in a pile of troll shit.

"Blaise?"

"Blaise!"

Her voice was frantic now, causing him to snap out of his day dream and enter back into reality.

"What's wrong Eva?" He replied almost as franticly as she had.

She merely shook her head, smiling slightly to herself.

"What's that in your hand?" She questioned, curiosity dripping from her voice.

Blaise glanced back down to the parchment now clenched uncomfortable tight in his fist, remembering his reason for being in the common room in the first place.

"Nothing to worry yourself about, love."

He turned himself back around, glancing up into his girlfriend's eyes to give her reassurance before he placed a chaste kiss on her lips.

"Everything is fine." He stated again, now reassuring himself more so than he was the person who was standing before him.

He knew his father well enough to break easily through his cheesy code. The letter was not a request to follow in his father's footsteps. It was a command. And Blaise was worried what would happen if he didn't show up to that meeting in few days time, not caring about his own fate, but about the fate of the two people he loved most in the world.

Here, he could protect Eva, at least for a short while until he figured out a game plan, but his mother was on her own. She was miles away, alone, and completely vulnerable.

He had to do something, and fast.


End file.
